Surrender
by redsandman99
Summary: Destroying William Regal was supposed to fix everything, yet Dean finds himself even more isolated from the locker room and angrier than before. A helping hand comes from the unlikeliest of places.


**A/N: **Every year I try to write a little diddy for my good friend Max because I love and adore her to pieces. Now this one is extremely late but it's long as hell so that should make up for the lateness.

* * *

Dean barely felt the whiskey go down his throat as he pounded back yet another shot. He had lost track of what number he was on long ago. He sat in the corner of the bar, shotglass by his left hand and the bottle of whiskey by his right. Nobody had dared to bother him which was good. He wanted it to stay that way. He wasn't exactly an approachable guy on his good days, and it had been quite awhile since he had actually had one of those. There hadn't been one since July actually. The night he had put Regal out had been the last time anything had seemed right in his world. After months of fighting to get his shot at redemption, after months of being consumed with the idea of revenge, he had gotten it. The match had been stopped before a winner could be declared, but that didn't matter. Dean had left Regal laying and unable to leave the ring on his own two feet. He had to be rushed to the hospital. Whispers had started that he would never wrestle again. Dean had taken such joy in the fact. He had done it. He had taken the monkey off of his back and ripped its heart out, leaving him to stand victorious.

Yet now his moment of triumphant had come back to haunt him. FCW had become NXT and nobody would allow him on the show. The other wrestlers treated him like he had the plague. The officials thought he was too dangerous to let near anyone. He hated it. He absolutely hated it. He wanted to wrestle. That was the only thing he had ever wanted to do. That was the only thing he was good at. And now they were taking it away from him. Fucking bastards. He had yelled and screamed and threatened everyone he could think of, but nobody would give in. The only thing left to do was crash the TV show, which sounded like fun until he took into consideration that they could take advantage of him doing that and fire him. He didn't want that. He didn't want to go back to the indies and be labeled a failure. He was on the cusp of the big time. If he lost it all now...no. He couldn't let that happen. He just couldn't.

"Mind if I join you?"

Dean nearly jumped right off his bar stool at the sound of the voice. He blinked and looked up, his attention focusing on the bearded and weirdly dressed man in front of him. Bray Wyatt. Not someone he expected to see at all. "The fuck you want?" he asked, his face settling on a scowl.

Bray smiled, Dean's expression not bothering him one little bit. "Mind if I sit?"

"Yes."

Bray sat down across from him anyway. He still wasn't the least bit bothered by the look Dean was giving him. In fact, he looked amused. That didn't set well with Dean. He had come here to drink and be left alone. That wasn't asking a whole lot. At least he hadn't thought it was. Yet here was Bray, grabbing his bottle of whiskey and examining it closely.

"I think this was the kind my daddy used to drink." Bray kept turning the bottle in his hand, a small frown crossing his face. "It made him even nastier than he usually was." He set the bottle back down, his frown turning into a little smirk. "The fire took care of him real nicely though."

"The fuck do you want Wyatt?" Dean didn't even want an elaboration on that last sentence. His gut told him there was nothing good about the answer. Despite months of wallowing in his Regal obsession, he had still heard the whispers about Wyatt. He heard that he had followers. He heard that he took his marching orders from some chick named Abigail, whom nobody never had actually met. He had seen a couple of the matches and saw the glee Bray took in destroying them. But other than that he hadn't thought much about the other man. And he certainly hadn't thought Bray would have any thoughts of him. Yet here they were with Bray staring at him like he was just the loveliest thing he had ever seen.

It was fucking weird.

"A little birdy told me you'd be here." Bray eyed their surroundings before settling his gaze back on Dean. "He said you've been moping and sulking because you've got yourself all bound in a cage."

"I'm not moping," Dean snapped.

Bray smirked.

"I'm not!"

"You sure about that?"

Dean just flipped him off. Why was he even justifying himself to Bray anyway? What he needed to do was get rid of him and then kick the ass of the person who told the fucker he'd be here. That's what he fucking needed to do.

"They clipped your wings." If the hand gesture bothered Bray he didn't show it. "You were supposed to fly high once you rid yourself of Regal, yet now they're using it against you." He leaned forward with narrowed eyes. "It's just an excuse though. They've been searching for one for awhile now." He pointed a single finger at Dean. "They see you as nothing more than street trash. They think if they push you down and ignore you long enough that you'll just go away." He shook his head, cutting Dean off before he could try to speak. "But they don't know the monster that really lives inside you. They don't know the rage that burns inside you."

"But let me guess: you do?" Dean went to pour himself another drink but Bray snatched the bottle away again. "Hey!"

"Oh I do know." Bray leaned back, keeping the bottle well out of Dean's reach. "It's the same monster that lives inside of me." He put his free hand against his own chest. "I've been just like you: lost and consumed with my own rage. But I learned to channel mine. I learned how to just make sure everyone around me burned without taking myself without out with it." He gave Dean a knowing look. "You took out Regal but nearly lost your mind doing it. Next time you fall into one of your little obsessions you might not be able to pull yourself free."

Dean stiffened. He didn't want to admit that Bray had a good point there. He had refused to see it at the time, but the situation with Regal had really fucked him up. He had barely been able to eat or sleep. Even the happiness he normally got from wrestling had been sucked out of him.

"But I can help you." Bray wasn't done talking yet. Dean doubted he ever actually was. "I can teach you to control it, just like she taught me. I can get you out of the cage and make sure you fly higher than you ever have before."

"What if I don't want your help?" Dean folded his arms across his chest and glared at him. He always had to be stubborn. "I can do this shit on my own." He wasn't actually so sure on that, but he wouldn't admitted it. He never admitted weakness to anyone. "I don't need you."

"Oh you will." Bray said this like it was a fact they both actually knew deep down. "You can't see it now, but soon you'll scream for me." He grabbed Dean's hand and brought it up to his mouth. His lips barely grazed it before Dean snatched it back. The tiny touch made his whole hand feel like it was on fire. The warmth spread up his whole arm, making his face flush. What the hell was that reaction? Was he that drunk? He had to be. There was no other reason he would even have a reaction like that.

"I'll see you around darlin." Bray got up and tipped his hat at him before disappearing off into the crowd. Dean stared off after him, the fire in his hand and arm settling into a tingling sensation instead. That was weird. Too weird. He shook his head and turned his attention back to his drinking. He needed to just get back to his whiskey and forget that even happened. He'd be better off for it.

* * *

Despite his efforts for the rest of that night and the ones that came after it, the sensation that had come from Bray kissing his hand wasn't something Dean could push out of his head. His words kept kicking around in his brain too. Fucking bastard. Who did he think he was? He didn't know him. He wasn't that easy to read.

Except Seth could do it.

Regal could.

Maybe he wasn't as hard to read as he thought.

No. Fuck that. Bray fucking Wyatt didn't know shit.

Dean showed up at the next TV tapings, praying for a match. He didn't even care if it was the opening match against some jobber nobody ever heard of before. But there was nothing. Again. This was bullshit. He was better than the rest of this fucking roster. He fucking knew he was. Yet he was sitting there and doing nothing? No. That wasn't fucking acceptable. And that was why he found himself in a screaming match with Dusty Rhodes, with both Joey Mercury and Bill DeMott standing between him and the hall of famer.

"Nobody wants to face you Ambrose!" Dusty explained yet again. "You scared them off by acting like a damn maniac!"

"Then I'll go out there and cut a promo." Dean didn't want to settle for just that, but he had to get something. He couldn't just sit around and keep doing nothing. He fucking couldn't.

"You aren't going out there to do anything." Now DeMott was speaking up. He stepped up to Dean and Dean found himself just itching to knock him on his ass. "Not after that stunt you pulled with Regal. You're on probation until we tell you otherwise."

Dean argued with them awhile longer, but it was no use. They weren't budging and he eventually just stormed out of the office. He went down the hall and ended up in catering, planting himself in a chair in the corner so he could glare at everyone who passed him. Barely anyone even paid him any mind. They were all talking to each other or just eating and minding their own business. He let his eyes scan the room, his gaze finally coming to a stop on Seth.

Seth fucking Rollins. The golden boy of FCW had smoothly transitioned into the golden boy of NXT. Dean wasn't surprised. Dusty loved him. Hunter (who had more to do with developmental now than John Lauranitis did) loved him. Everyone fucking loved him. Dean...well, he had thought he loved him. His fascination with him had turned into infatuation and he had thought Seth had been into him too. But then he had gotten consumed by Regal and Seth had gotten angry about taking a backseat in the fight for his attention. Dean found himself dumped and replaced by Roman Reigns...who was in fact sitting with Seth now. Dean scowled as he watched Seth laugh at something Roman said. Roman had about everything he didn't. Movie star good looks, a good, stable family, the powers that be ready to hand him the keys to the castle once the time was right - whispers were already saying Roman would be the golden child that replaced John Cena. It absolutely infuriated Dean. The kid was good. He wasn't denying that. But he was better. He knew he was. Yet he would have to work three times as hard to get maybe half the credit Roman would. It was bullshit.

"You dodged a bullet with that one."

Dean nearly fell off his chair at the sound of Bray's voice. He hadn't even heard the other man approach him. "What -" he looked at Bray, who was crouched down beside his chair now "the fuck are you talking about?"

Bray pointed to Seth, who was oblivious that he was being stared at. "He's not the sweet boy everyone here makes him out to be. He's a Judas at heart. He'll use the brute and anyone else dumb enough to fall for his tricks and then stab them in the back when it suits him."

Dean frowned. He could agree Seth was ambitious, but a backstabber? Seth was too much of a goody two shoes for that. "I don't think -"

"You're blinded by what you want to see from him." Bray wasn't accepting any real argument on the matter. "You buy into his lie and if you're not careful, he'll hurt you more than you ever hurt him."

Well shit. Dean didn't know what to really say to that. "The fuck do you even want?" He decided to just change the subject. "Didn't you get enough of bothering me the other night?"

Bray's lips turned up into a smile. "Why would I ever get enough of you little lamb?"

Dean twitched at the nickname. "Don't fucking call me that."

"Why not? I think it suits you." Bray reached up and ran his fingertips over Dean's cheek. Just like the kiss to his hand before it, this touch sent a rush of warmth through Dean. It burned through his face and then down his whole body, making him jerk away yet again from the touch.

"Are you...are you fucking flirting with me Wyatt?" Dean could hardly believe he was actually having to ask that question.

The only answer he got for that was a smirk and a playful glint in Bray's eyes. Yeah. The fucker was definitely flirting with him.

"I'm going." This was too weird. He had been in a lot of weird and fucked up situations before, but having a guy like Bray Wyatt flirt with him was on a level that he didn't want to be at.

He barely got himself stood up before Bray's hand wrapped around his wrist and stopped him in his tracks. He opened his mouth to snap at him but his voice died in his throat as his eyes met Bray. The intensity of his stare took the breath right out of him. It felt like Bray's eyes were slipping right through his skin and settling down somewhere into his soul. He felt insane for it but he fucking felt it. He could swear he did.

"You can't keep letting them clip your wings like this." Bray's voice was almost a whisper it was so low. "You're letting them win." He glanced over to where Roman and Seth were sitting. "They'll sit on their throne while you drown." He looked back at Dean. "Don't let them. Push them out yourself and take what you deserve." He stood up and leaned in close, putting his mouth right up to Dean's ear. "Go ahead and aim to misbehave darlin. Dusty and those other fools only think they can stop you."

Dean didn't say a word. He didn't know what the fuck to say. He kept his eyes glued to Bray as he backed off, not looking away until Bray was long gone. Once he was sure he wasn't coming back he let out a long, shaky sigh. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Bray Wyatt had some fucking voodoo power. He had to. There was no other reason that he would be having this type of effect on him. He took a glance around. Nobody had noticed. There was at least a dozen other people in the room and not a single one of them had even noticed. He was not only caged as Bray put it, but apparently invisible as well. This was bullshit. He couldn't put up with this. He fucking had to do something. Even if Bray was being a creeper he wasn't wrong. He needed to break free.

Seth's laughter brought Dean's focus back to him. The way he was looking at Roman made his stomach curl. Roman was the type who would really get everything. He would get the championships Dean deserved. He would get the admiration Dean secretly wanted. And he would get the guy Dean still wanted but wouldn't get he wasn't as pretty or as perfect as stupid fucking Roman god damn Reigns. "Aim to misbehave," he muttered under his breath, not even fully aware he was echoing Wyatt's words. "Yeah. I'll fucking do that alright."

* * *

The referee barely got Roman's hand raised before Dean struck. He came out through the crowd and nailed Roman from behind, following him down to the mat and nailing him over and over again with his fists. The bell rang repeatedly and the referee yelled at him to get off. He refused to listen. He couldn't fucking listen. The burst of violence was absolutely exhilarating. The shit the crowd was yelling at him spurred him on even further. Let them boo. Let them curse at him and tell him he sucked. If they didn't want to like him then he would take everyone they did admire and rip them apart for his own amusement.

More referees and some agents hit the ring. They grabbed him and pulled him off, carting him off to the back. He struggled, kicking and snarling and biting but they wouldn't let go until they got him backstage. They deposited him at the feet of Bill DeMott, who was absolutely furious.

"What the hell was that Ambrose?" He got right in Dean's face, spit flying in every direction. "Do you think this is a game Ambrose? Huh?" He shoved his hands against Dean's chest. "Do you think this is a fucking game?"

Dean scowled and shoved DeMott right back. This wasn't a fucking game. He didn't do it to play. He wanted the respect he deserved. He wanted the attention he had been deprived off. And if this fucker shoved him one more time then he would rip him apart too.

"You just wait until Dusty gets a hold of you. You're finished Ambrose. You hear me? You're fucking finished!"

"Bill!" Dusty's voice sounded right on cue. The words that followed caught them all off guard though. "Back off."

Bill blinked in disbelief. "But-"

"He wants to be on the show? He'll face Reigns as soon as we make sure he's ready."

Bill sputtered, his fury and confusion blending together. Dean frowned, completely taken aback by Dusty's about face. His confusion though didn't last long. As Bill turned his fury on to Dusty, Dean spotted Bray peeking his head around the corner. A wide smile could be seen through his beard and he gave Dean a little wave before slipping away, completely unseen by everyone else watching.

* * *

Same bar, same whiskey, same table - the only thing that changed was the night. His whole body felt on edge. He didn't want to admit it, but there was a big part of him hoping that Bray would seek him out like before. He felt fucking weird wanting that. He was trying to push it down to little success. He couldn't stop thinking about what had happened at the tapings. The shit Bray had said to him burrowed in his brain. It made him go out there and attack Roman. He tried to lie to himself and said that was all him, but if Bray hadn't spoken up he would have surely stayed in the back and just stewed in his own anger. Despite feeling like he was destined to be a loner and trying to embrace it, there was a part of him that liked the fact that at least one person wanted him to succeed.

But does he really? A nagging voice in the back of his head just had to speak up. It always fucking did. Or is he just saying that because he wants to get something from you?

Dean pounded back a shot and tried to shake the voice off. He did not need this shit now.

He knows you're so attention starved that you'll lap up anything you can get. He don't want you to succeed. He don't even like flirting with you. He wants to get something from you and leave like all the rest.

"Shut up," he growled under his breath. "Fucking shut up."

"I haven't said anything yet little lamb."

"Jesus!" Dean nearly fell right off his stool as he turned around. Bray was standing there, looking as amused as ever. "You fucking asshole!"

"Sorry darlin." No he wasn't. He didn't sound sorry at all. "I just couldn't resist." Bray walked around the table to sit across from Dean. "I was hoping I'd find you here."

"Did a birdy tell you I'd be here again?"

"Didn't have to this time. For as unpredictable as you can be in some aspects, you got clear cut patterns in other." Bray grabbed the whiskey bottle and turned it so he could read the label. "I knew it'd be this stuff."

"I like what I like." Dean snatched the bottle back so he could pour another shot. "So what the fuck did you say to Dusty anyway? He gave me so much shit before the show started yet all of a sudden he's giving me what I want." He downed the shot and slammed the glass down on the table. "What's your secret? Did you like, put a spell on him?"

"A spell?" Bray chuckled at the suggestion. "No. I don't need any of that. I'm actually just very persuasive."

"Persuasive huh?"

"Mhm."

"You wanna fucking expand on that?"

"No."

Dean folded his arms over his chest. He didn't like that answer. He didn't like being kept in the dark about shit. He wanted to know what was going on around him. He wanted to know why people did what they did so he could prepare for them. He wanted to be able to read them for his own protection. He had dodged many bullets over the years by keeping a firm grasp of understanding of the people around him. Yet here sat Bray, a complete enigma. He knew Bray was interested in him but he didn't know why. He didn't know what Bray hoped to gain by coming after him. He didn't like that he didn't know. But he didn't try to push Bray away. He just stayed still, his eyes narrowed as he stubbornly kept trying to get a read on the bastard.

"They all became scared of you again." Bray lost interest in people watching and turned his attention back to Dean. "I heard them whisper among themselves. They're so angry that you didn't let them ignore you anymore. And now they're scared your rage will turn against them."

"You think I give a shit what they think?"

"Yes." How quickly Bray answered that infuriated Dean. "You always have."

"The fuck does that even mean? You don't even really know me."

"I know you better than you think." Bray leaned in so he could talk more quietly. Dean didn't know why. It wasn't like anyone was listening anyway. "You crave approval, but know you won't get it, so you reject the idea of even wanting it. You do it to protect yourself, which is fine. But you don't have to lie to me. I can see right through it."

"You're full of shit Wyatt," Dean said as he averted his glance down to his glass.

"Look me in the eye and say it."

Dean looked up. He opened his mouth to repeat himself. Yet the words wouldn't come out again. Something in Bray's gaze rendered him unable to say it. What the fuck. What the ever living fuck. Fucking god damn it. What was this shit? "What do you want from me?" He tried to keep his voice down into a low, angry growl. "Fucking seriously. Do you think this is fucking cute?" His tone started to rise as the words kept tumbling out of him. "Do you think this is a fucking game? Because I'm fucking done being played with."

"Does it look like I'm playing little lamb?"

Dean couldn't tell. That was a huge fucking problem. He was used to being able to read people. Even with Seth and Regal, who always found ways to keep him on his toes, he was able to keep a good read on them. But Bray was another thing entirely. He was an enigma wrapped up in a fucked up bow. "Why me? Why are you suddenly so fixated on me?"

Bray smiled. It seemed genuine. Like he had just been waiting for Dean to ask that the whole time. "Because I see myself in you." He gestured back and forth between them. "You and me are one in the same. My soul is a twisted reflection of yours and vice versa. The monster that lives inside you lives inside of me." He leaned in even closer, their mouths dangerously close to touching now. "We're destined for each other darlin. Can't you feel it?"

Dean felt something alright. He didn't know what to call it though. The warmth he felt when Bray had touched him before was coursing through him again. They hadn't even made contact this time yet now it felt more intense than before. Run away his brain said. Run away before it was too late. But his body wouldn't move. It stayed still, allowing Bray to lean in for the kiss.

The spark was instantaneous. It spread through Dean's whole body, burning wildly inside him while keeping him rooted to the spot. He was only faintly aware of the fact that he was kissing Bray back. Lips and teeth and tongues clashed and a harsh bite to his lower lip had Dean tasting blood. He moaned, his limbs feeling weak as Bray deepened the kiss even more. He was in trouble now. That realization managed to sink itself into Dean's brain. He couldn't break away though. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to. He tried to tell himself he did, but his silent protests were futile in his own brain.

The kiss seemed to go on forever, yet it still seemed too soon when they broke apart. Dean panted for breath, his head spinning as he stared at Bray dumbly. Bray stared back at him calmly. Confidently. He knew exactly what kind of effect he was having on Dean. Shit.

"I want you by my side little lamb." Bray ran his thumb over Dean's bottom lip. "You don't have to fight alone. I can save you, just like I'm saving them."

"Who?" Dean had no fucking idea who he was talking about.

"My family. You'll meet a couple of them soon enough." That was probably a more concerning thing in itself than Bray was letting on. "Join me. We can burn this god forsaken world to the ground and stand on its ashes."

Dean didn't know what to say. He really didn't. His brain tried to say no. It tried to get him to tell Bray he was a whackjob who needed some serious help. But he couldn't say it. Whatever had been woken up in him from the kiss yearned to say yes. So now he just stayed quiet, his mouth hanging open stupidly.

Bray chuckled. "What? Do I need to convince you further?" He stood up and grabbed Dean's hand. "Come on. Let's go."

"Go where?"

Bray didn't answer. Instead he just pulled Dean off his stool and dragged him towards the door. Dean resisted only briefly. Curiosity mixed with his head still spinning from the kiss snuffed the fight out of him. Fuck it was his last thought before they stepped out into the muggy night air. Just fuck it.

* * *

They somehow ended up at his apartment rather than wherever Bray was staying. Dean wasn't exactly sure how Bray knew where he lived. It wasn't something he went around advertising to people. He didn't get a chance to ask though. The moment they were inside he found himself shoved up against the wall, Bray's lips on his once more. These kisses were just as brutal and searing as they had been at the bar. Without an audience or a table separating them though, Bray's hands ripped his shirt right off him before eagerly exploring his body. He tried to tug off Bray's shirt in return, wanting some resemblance of control in this situation. It wasn't about to be given to him. Bray kept it all, his hands eventually grabbing Dean's wrists and pinning them back against the wall. His mouth moved off of Dean's, traveling down to his neck and biting the sensitive flesh roughly. Dean moaned and squirmed against Bray's grip. Every touch, every kiss...it was all driving him crazy. The part of his brain that had tried to tell him this wasn't a good idea had been completely shut down. Fuck it. This was the perfect idea. Nothing had ever felt like this. The drugs he used to medicate himself with never got him this high. No person he had been with had been able to get him with just a small touch. He had thought Seth or Regal had but he had been wrong. Just so very wrong.

Bray pulled him off the wall and they were stumbling for his bedroom. Their clothes didn't make it in there with them; instead they left a trail that stopped right before Dean's still open bedroom door. The lights were off, leaving only the moon and streetlights to pour in and let them see. They broke apart, Dean panting for breath while Bray was barely phased. Bray's eyes looked him up and down slowly. The weight of his gaze made Dean shiver. His stare was hypnotizing. Fuck. Holy fuck.

"Come 'ere darlin." Despite his own words, Bray didn't actually wait for Dean to move. He closed the distance between them, his hands pushing Dean down to his knees by his shoulders. Dean meant to fight that grip. He really did. But Bray's eyes pulled him in and made him comply. Being wanted and pursued was a strange thing. He was always the one who had to give chase. He had to pursue Seth. He had to pursue Regal. But not Wyatt. Bray wanted to be with him. He wanted him and Dean wanted him to keep that feeling. It was why he found himself taking Bray's cock into his mouth, sucking sloppily but eagerly, his eyes looking up to search for the approval that he never admitted to craving.

"Look at you." One of Bray's hands gripped Dean's hair and held it tight, fingers twisting to make Dean's scalp hurt. "Such a beautiful little lamb."

Beautiful. Not really a word anyone had ever used to describe him before. He didn't really believe it. Bray was just saying that. But it was nice to hear so he wasn't going to be difficult and start an argument. Instead he hollowed his cheeks and sucked harder, his blunt fingernails digging in against Bray's thighs.

"Come here." Bray was back to giving orders. He pulled Dean up and pushed him back on to the bed. He quickly joined him, his lips starting to travel across Dean's body. Bites mixed in with the kisses, making Dean nearly jump out of his skin.

"Fucking be careful," he growled. "I still gotta fucking wrestle you know."

Bray smirked before giving his stomach a particularly hard bite. Dean's yelp turned into a moan halfway through. Fuck. He didn't need to like that so much. He really fucking didn't. But fuck, he really fucking did. He arched his hips up, his own cock aching and hard now. He wanted - no, NEEDED - Bray to touch him. "Please…" The desperate plea was out of his mouth before he could stop it.

"What was that now?" Bray pulled his mouth away from Dean's body to give him a smug look.

Dean groaned and tried to force Bray to go lower.

"Nuh uh. Use your words."

Dean glared at him but it didn't have the desired effect. Fuck. "Touch me," he managed to make himself say. "Fuck me. Fucking do something."

"Something like this?" Bray's mouth went back on him, this time biting right above his hip.

Dean bit down on his lower lip. That was good. Not exactly what he wanted, but good.

"Or this?" Bray's hand wrapped around Dean's shaft and gave it a couple of strokes.

"Fuck!" Dean immediately bucked his hips up. "Oh fuck Bray please…"

Bray chuckled lowly before cruelly taking his hand away. "You're so easy darlin."

Dean felt like he should have probably been offended by that statement. But he had no time for it. Bray's hand was reaching over to the bedside desk, opening the top drawer and finding the bottle of lube. Dean reached his own hand over there, intending to grab a condom that he knew he had in there. Bray snatched his wrist and stopped him, shaking his head firmly.

"I want to feel you," he whispered. His kisses went across Dean's, his body grinding down on top of Dean's to make him moan loudly. "Let me feel you little lamb."

Despite his previous efforts, Dean found himself nodding. His eyes had fluttered shut at the sensations assaulting his body, so he missed the smirk on Bray's face. He didn't miss the sound of the cap being popped off the bottle of lube. And he surely didn't miss the feeling of slick fingers slipping inside of him. First one, then two and then finally three, all moving eagerly in him, crooking to find his prostate with ease. Dean bucked against his fingers, wanting desperately to wrap a hand around his shaft and stroke himself. Bray didn't allow that though. He kept himself in control of Dean's pleasure, his fingers slowing down to a near torturous pace.

"Fuck...fucking god damn you…"

"Talking like that ain't going to get you anywhere darlin." Bray nipped at his earlobe.

"Fucking come on."

"Beg me."

Dean felt his whole body flush at the words. "Fuck...no...come on, just do it."

Bray's fingers moved even more slowly, making him whine in a way he would never in his life admit to anyone else.

"Fuck...fuck just fuck me."

"You're close." Bray moved his fingers a little faster, his smirk growing by the second. "Try again."

Dean groaned. "Please…"

There it was. That was good enough for Bray. He slipped his fingers out and tossed the lube off the bed before slamming into Dean. Dean nearly screamed. His fingers dug into Bray's back, raking down to leave angry red scratch marks behind. There was barely a moment of adjustment before Bray pulled almost all the way out just to slam back in. Dean did scream this time, his hips arching up to meet Bray's brutal thrusts. He needed this roughness. He didn't know what to do with anything gentle. Even if he craved it sometimes, he wouldn't trust it. This was for him. This hard, fast, nearly brutal that drew out whoreish moans that he hadn't thought himself capable of.

"Look at you darlin." Bray had his mouth right next to Dean's ear, seemingly trying to make sure he couldn't escape his talking. "You see how you fit with me?." He grabbed Dean's hand and laced their fingers together, squeezing tightly. "You belong at my side." He moved his head back so he could look Dean in the eye. "They didn't want you, but I do."

Dean swallowed hard. It didn't feel like Bray was lying. He searched for it, expecting it because that was always what he got. But Bray was either telling the truth or the smoothest liar Dean had ever met. Either way, he wasn't spending too much time dwelling on it now. He moved his head up, kissing Bray almost desperately. The new kiss had just as much of a spark as the first one had.

Skin slapping against skin mixed with heavy breaths and Bray's near continuous mantra of seductive words. They were all too loud in Dean's brain. He couldn't shut them out. They burned through his brain, just like Bray's kisses burned through his body. He dug his nails deeper into Bray's back, his legs hooking around his waist to pull him in even deeper. Every thrust hit his prostate, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. He tried to slip a hand down between their bodies, desperate to get a release.

"No no no." Bray grabbed his hand and pinned it down above his head

"Fuck jesus come on." Dean tried to use his other hand, only to get that one pinned down as well. "Are you kidding me?"

Bray smirked and thrusted faster.

"Fuck!" Dean tried to arch up off the bed completely. "Ohh god fuck. Fuck fuck please...please…"

Bray let go of one hand to reach down and stroke Dean in time with his thrusts. Dean moaned wildly, his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head as his release washed over him. He felt Bray come undone soon after, his weight crashing down on top of Dean's shaky body. They both just laid there for awhile, Bray murmuring sweet nothings under his breath while Dean tried to regain his breath. He couldn't even think to speak. What were words? He certainly fucking didn't know.

"What do you say little lamb?" Bray gently nudged the side of Dean's face with his nose. "Will you join me?"

Dean still couldn't really speak. But the soft, lazy kiss he gave Bray spoke the word yes for him.


End file.
